Beauty is a Subjective Term
by soulnecklace
Summary: The dwarves talked the Queen into upgrading her mirror. She should never have listened to them...


**Author's note: would appreciate feedback on this. It's quite fun, but I don't feel it's as tight as the last two. Comments, anyone?**

******Beauty is a Subjective Term**

_- Define: Fairest_

The Queen tapped her fingers on the marble dressing table. Click click click. Nails filed to a killing point.

'Fair means beautiful. So. Who, in the Kingdom is more beautiful than I?'

_- Define: Beauty_

The last mirror had done what she'd asked. But oh no, the dwarfs had talked her into this new one, saying magic words like "memory" and "voice activation" and "ram" and she hadn't wanted to look stupid, not in front of a bunch of dwarves. And now look at it; this super-sleek mirror so beautiful on the wall and so, so useless. How was she supposed to find Snow White without a working mirror? An upgrade, they'd said, as if an upgrade was a good thing.

The Queen threw a crystal perfume jar across her chamber. It shattered on the stone tiles, spilling musk-flavoured perfume. A serving girl scurried to clean it up, ducking low as she moved, to avoid any other stray objects that the Queen might throw.

Turning back to the mirror, she said, 'I mean, you stupid mirror, is there anyone else in this Kingdom more beautiful than I?'

_- Define: More beautiful_

The Queen paused. How does one define beauty, anyway? 'Girl,' she said over her shoulder.

The maid paused in her cleaning. 'Yes, my lady?'

'What makes someone beautiful?

Kneeling on the floor, the maid carefully placed shards of glass onto a folded piece of paper. 'Like you, my lady?'

The Queen smiled. This girl was intelligent. 'Exactly,' she purred. 'Like me.'

The girl scrambled to her feet, bending her head. 'Beauty, my lady? Ah, maybe something like clear skin. Red lips.'

'Is that all?' says the Queen, disappointed. 'Why, you have red lips.'

'Thank you my lady.'

'There you are, mirror,' said the Queen, turning her back on the servant. 'I want you to find out for me if there is anyone in the Kingdom with clearer skin and redder lips than I.'

Behind her, the girl went to get a mop and bucket.

_- Subjective terms. Reframe your search parameters_

'Servant,' called the Queen, without turning her head. The girl was folding the paper into a funnel, ready to pour the glass into a small tumbler.

'Yes, my lady?'

'What does it mean?'

The girl ducked her head. 'I think, my lady, it does not understand your question.'

'Why not? I am perfectly clear.' Tap tap went the nails. The Queen's hand twitched towards another glass bottle and the girl added quickly, 'It's a dwarf mirror. My Ma works for them. They're scientific. Need to use very specific terms, to get their magic working.'

'Specific terms?' asked the Queen grimly. 'I'll show them how specific I can be. With my wand, I can very specific.' She sighed. 'So. What should I ask this wretched mirror?'

'May I, my lady?' said the girl, indicating the space beside the Queen.

The Queen nodded, and the girl stepped beside her. She smelt of musk perfume and bleach. Her face, what the Queen could see of it behind the fall of grubby hair, seemed pale. She was right to be nervous, thought the Queen grimly. Persons that got too close to her were apt to have a significantly shortened lifespan.

'Mirror mirror,' said the girl softly.

'I said that,' said the Queen. 'Didn't I say that?' She looked up at the girl.

'That's just the start command.'

'Oh,' said the Queen. 'I knew that.'

The girl cleared her throat. 'Definition input.'

_- Inputting_

'Beauty=Fair. Beauty: blemish-free skin'

'Amazing,' thought the Queen. 'How does she make that noise in her throat? It sounds just someone choking.' She frowned, remembering: red apple, blood falling on snow.

_- Define: blemish_

'Definition input: Crease, line or wrinkles'

'Freckles,' whispered the queen.

The servant nodded. 'Definition continues: moles, warts, lentigines, skin tags'

_- Definition received _

'What is a lentigine?' asked the Queen

'Like a freckle.' The girl pointed at a sunspot on the Queen's hand. The Queen moved her hand quickly, hiding the imperfection. 'So now, if you ask it to tell you who is the most beautiful in the land, it will tell you who has the clearest skin.'

'Well,' said the Queen, looking pleased. 'That's very clever. Back you go, girl, clean up that mess. The perfume is giving me a headache.' The girl crept back to the floor and the scrubbing brush.

The Queen stared up at the mirror's silver screen, tapped her finger and asked: 'Mirror mirror, who is the most beautiful in the land?'

On the screen appeared faces, flickering in and out, changing too rapidly to recognize any individual. A montage of faces, from happy to sad, from fat to thin, in a rainbow of skin tones. All clear-skinned, all beautiful.

All of them children.

The Queen screamed, stood up, backed away from the mirror. She stumbled over the servant, still scrubbing the floor.

'Your Majesty. What is it?'

The Queen couldn't answer, just point at the mirror. The menagerie of children floated past. Never her own face, never her own.

'Tell it to stop.'

The girl sat back on her heels, called out: 'Mirror. End query.'

The screen faltered, the faces disappeared. The Queen slowly straightened.

'Beauty,' she said crisply, 'is in the eye of the beholder. And I behold my face, and I say I am beautiful. I do not need to ask any mirror anything.'

The girl returned to her scrubbing. 'That's what my Ma says. She says beauty isn't that special. It's what you do that counts.'

The Queen sniffed and returned to her dresser. 'When you've finished clearing up,' she said, 'go and wash.'

The girl wrung her perfume-scented cloth into the bucket, picked up her brush and backed from the room. 'That's why she stayed with them. She's never coming home. She's no interest in your stupid kingdom. And we're good at hiding. So stop trying to find us.'

The Queen spun on her chair, stared around at the servant girl, creeping backwards from the room with her mop and brush and bucket. She did look familiar; black hair, creamy skin.

'Wait,' she said. 'Wait!'

The girl had gone. Out into the corridor, merging with the other waiting staff. Hundreds of them, scurrying about like mice. Identical, in their grey coveralls, hiding their faces. The Queen would never find her.

Wait! The mirror! The mirror could tell her.

'Mirror, mirror,' she said. 'Show me…'

She stopped. Damned dwarf technology. She'd never get it to work. Only Snow White could get along with them.


End file.
